Champion
by Walking with Kings
Summary: When Harry encounters the merpeople who live in the Black Lake, things go a bit differently. Harry's "saving-people-thing" was always taken to the extreme.
1. Chapter 1

_**Champions**_

Harry was shaking with both fear and chill as he dove in to the frigid waters of the Black Lake, remembering belatedly to shove a wad of gillyweed into his mouth and chew. As he tried to get past the horrid taste and nauseating texture of the plant currently in residence in his oral cavity, he saw the other three Champions as they sped off into the dark, cold waters of the Hogwarts lake. He also saw the small swarms of grindylow as they quietly stalked the other Champions. And himself, he noted dully as he looked down into the weeds of the lake, his newly enhanced eyes catching the small reflection of light that their little, beady, black eyes caught as they looked toward the surface, directly at him.

He idly wondered, as he felt the last of the changes wrought by the gillyweed take hold in his body, why the grindylow hadn't attacked him while he had been sitting motionless in the water above them. He wasn't about to stick around to give them more chances, however, and he kicked his feet experimentally. He was unprepared for the sudden burst of speed, and the grindylow watched with primordial interest as he twisted and turned through the water, getting used to his... _fins._

Harry shot through the water, feeling the rush that usually followed a ride on his Firebolt, as he accelerated through the water using his newly grown fins. It was intoxicating as ever, he thought with a slight grin, the feeling of flying through some medium. Water or air, it didn't matter, as long as he knew that in that realm he was _free._

His freedom quickly came crashing down around him as he came into view of Fleur, who was struggling in vain against the pack of grindylow that had been stalking her so closely and had apparently found an opportune time to strike. Their strong, lithe fingers easily ripped the french veela's wand from her, and her fingers, numb from the cold, put up little resistance to the minor demons. Harry contemplated simply leaving her to her fate, but his legs wouldn't cooperate with his head, which may have worried him if he hadn't known exactly why he couldn't move. Damn his bloody conscience.

Suddenly, Harry was in motion, spiraling downward, into the crowd of grindylow gathering around the writhing body of the entrapped woman who had enraptured the hearts of so many men. He damn near _flew_ into the water demon nearest to the bubble around Fleur's head that was allowing her to continue breathing, grabbing the offending beast by the skull and staring into its soulless black eyes.

_This is my domain, you ignorant beast,_ Harry rammed his thoughts into the creature's brain, paying no mind to the pain he must be causing it, _I am the God of this realm, and YOU-WILL-NOT-CHALLENGE-ME! _With that final mental battering ram, he released the pitiful beast's skull from his grip, and it sped away into the dark abyss that he knew was where its kind called home. The rest of the minor water demons quickly followed suit, not willing to risk the wrath of the one who had defeated their Alpha-Male.

Fleur, finally freed from the grip of terror and scales that had paralyzed her moments before, began to search frantically for her lost wand. Harry decided to spare the poor woman the trouble of finding it herself, and summoned the magical twig to his palm and handed it to her, business-end pointed toward himself.

She stared deeply into his eyes for a long moment, trying to gauge his intentions, before grabbing her wand and shouting a quick 'thank-you', distorted by the partial-pressure gradient at the edge of the bubble, where the air that she was breathing met the water that he was inhaling. He nodded quickly and gave her a lopsided grin, pointing in the direction that he knew their stolen friends lay, just a few hundred meters from the site of her attack.

They swam side-by-side into the village, both taking a moment as they swam to admire the sub-marine metropolis that the merpeople had likely constructed over countless centuries, countless generations, and over countless bodies of their brethren, each of them mourned and celebrated by each generation. The city was truly a work of beauty, he thought, feeling the weight of their intrusion into such a sacred place settle onto his shoulders, like the stares of millions of merpeople, living and dead, boring into his soul.

He tugged on the sleeve of his beautiful, temporary companion, trying to convey with his eyes how important it was that they leave this holy city as quickly as they could possibly move. His eyes swept over the ever-increasing number of onlookers to their depressing parade of power over them, he could see in their eyes that they feared the two land-dwellers who had, however reluctantly, entered into the city that they called home, the city that was promised to them as safe.

Harry was struck with red, burning anger at Dumbledore's forceful intrusion into the lives of these mistreated people. How dare that old man shove the presence of his people into the midst of the people who had called this place home for thousands of years, people who had lived, bled, and_ died_ for this small piece of something they could call their own, safe from invasion and conquer from outside forces. _How dare he?_

The anger in Harry's eyes must have shown, as all of the mermaids backed further behind the trident-carrying mermen, those with children fleeing the scene entirely, to protect what little they had. Harry understood their feeling well, and made a fast decision.

His eyes sought out the chieftain, the most important person in the merpeople's society, the man who could overturn his people's laws with a single word, should the opportunity demand such an action. As Harry's eyes fell onto the oldest merman he had seen, he knew that he had found the man he was looking for, and so, after gesturing to Fleur to go ahead without him, he swam up to the elderly chieftain, floated down to his knees, and bowed his head to the wizened half-fish.

Harry had closed his eyes when he had bowed his head to the chieftain, and as such didn't know what was going to happen to him. He highly doubted that a wizard had ever submitted himself to the mercy of a merman before; Such a grievous blow to the ego of a land-dweller it would be, to bow your head before an _inferior species._ Harry barely contained the sneer that threatened to erupt onto his face at the thought of the wizards' precious dignity, and where that dignity and pride had brought them. Forced to bow before another wizard, one of ideals that they did not believe in, morals they did not share. And all to preserve their precious pride. Such foolish people they were, the men and women he was forced to call his _kin._

Harry stiffened as he felt cold metal come to rest on his left shoulder, the curve of the weapon in sharp contrast with the flesh of his body. He dared not look up into the eyes of his punisher, he did not want to know who killed him, should they choose to take his offer of repentance for his race because he would rather not know and be free of hate, than know and hate his punisher for something that Harry himself had offered his life for.

And suddenly there was singing, soft at first, but slowly growing in volume as more and more and _more_ merpeople joined in the sorrowful aria emerging from the compassion they saw in the young human who had unknowingly invaded their home, a young human who, when he had realized the depth of his people's transgressions, had willfully offered his own life as repayment.

And the people of this sub-marine city sang for him, the compassionate human. They sang for him.

They sang for change.

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><p><strong>AN: That's it. I put up a one-shot that I'm actually kinda proud of. <strong>

**I wrote this because I always thought it odd that the merpeople would just _agree_ to let a bunch of humans traipse 'round the center of their culture in Great Britain.**

**Maybe I looked to far into it, but its done.**

**And I wanted to write about Harry showing off his scary-ass-Gryffindor side. **

**And please, people. I'm begging you. Please review. PLEASE! I want to know how I've done with my writing. I can't know unless you, the readers, tell me what you think. So please just take a moment of your time to write a short review. **

**Please review.**

**-Brandon.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Angry Men and Angry Women**_

Harry emerged slowly from the depths of the lake, logically understanding the need to surface before the gillyweed he had consumed such a long while ago wore off, lest he risk drowning. But... He really did not want to face this; It isn't that he wouldn't face it, but he didn't like the fact that he was the only one who would. He wished that he had people on his side, people who knew more than he did, people he could look up to. People like Dumbledore.

But that was no more. Harry had lost all the faith that he had once had (Was it really only a few hours ago that he had been Dumbledore's little 'Golden Boy?' It seemed so far in the distant past, now) in the ancient Headmaster; In one observation the foundation of faith that Harry had built up over those four long years had crumbled and died under the weight of a single injustice, done to a people that he had only just met. His faith had died.

Eventually, Harry did emerge from the lake, merpeople following closely in his wake, hidden in the murky depths, but still there. They were watching, Harry knew, they were watching to see how he would act toward his own kind, to see if he was truly someone they could place the hopes of their tired people on his small shoulders.

Honestly, Harry didn't think himself up to the task. He didn't think that he could measure up to their expectations, he didn't think that he was the saviour they were expecting, nor did he think that he was the saviour they wanted. But he would be strong for them, even if that was all he could do, he would be strong, even if it cost him everything.

As Harry swam toward the shore, an unconscious Ron Weasley in tow, he thought about everything. Everything he had known had been crushed into dust and scattered in the winds twice in his short lifetime, and both times he had been filled with a renewed sense of purpose; First when he had been eleven, and he had been told for the first time that he was a wizard, that his parents were not drunks but were upstanding members of wizarding society, famous in their own right, and loving parents until the bitter, bitter end; The second time had occurred that very day, down in the darkness of the Black Lake, where human conventions held sway where they had no right to, down in the city of the Merpeople, where the citizens of the sea lived in eternal, everlasting fear of their upper-world neighbors, neighbors that had time and again ravaged their home, their sanctuary.

Dumbledore was not the paragon of the light, Harry realized on that day, Dumbledore was a human. Dumbledore could be wrong, and Dumbledore _was_ wrong. He was eternally wrong in the worst ways.

He could still hear the song that the abused, downtrodden people of the Black Lake had sung to him some minutes ago, he could still _feel_ the emotions bleeding from the hearts and souls of the people who had tried to live in peace for generation upon generation, only to be struck down time and time again by the hard, fiery hand of the wizards. He knew, without a doubt, that there would be change on the horizon, the only question remaining was whether it would be a bloodless revolution, or a bloody one. If the wizards ignored what Harry had to say, if they didn't listen to what Harry had _seen_, then there would be blood shed in waves from both sides, and Harry did not want to see that happen.

He reached the shore, and he hefted Ron's lanky body up onto the shore, as Madame Pomfrey rushed over to wake him up. As Ron jolted awake, the effect of the smelling salts taking hold, Dumbledore approached Harry, but the storm brewing on his face must have belied his anger, for Dumbledore's smile faltered and he hesitated in his stride for a brief moment before his facade recovered.

"We need to talk, Dumbledore," Harry ground out with a modicum of civility, "We have some... pressing issues to attend to." And with that, Harry plopped another slimy piece of gillyweed into his mouth and dove into the water to await the changes. He did not have to wait long, he mused as the transformative plant took hold of his body, twisting the fabric of Harry's being into the image that the plant desired.

Throughout the transformation, he waited for the headmaster to arrive under the water, and as the transformation finished, Dumbledore finally joined him in his domain. He had to admit, however grudgingly, that Dumbledore's transformation into a water-breather was far more elegant than his own clunky, unrefined method. Dumbledore was also far older, more knowledgeable, and far far _far_ more experienced than he, Harry, was, he rationalized.

Harry simply stood by as the mermen, armed to the teeth with gleaming golden and silver tridents,swords made of shining steel, daggers made from either bone or metal, and a myriad of other weapons surrounded the old man.

"I simply want to talk, Headmaster, but I do not trust you. You will surrender your wand, or you will be forced to kill these men, _innocent_ men, I remind you, men who are acting on my orders," Harry paused, deliberating on giving the old man a bone. However, the old wizard beat him to it.

"If you wish to talk, then we shall do it on the surface, where-" He was intending to continue, but Harry cut across him.

"No," Harry interrupted, "No negotiations between the wizarding race and the Merpeople will take place above the surface of the water. You may be able to breathe down here, sir, but you are nowhere near as agile as I. I will not allow you to take me alive, should you try to remove me from these waters."

Harry paused, hesitated.

"If the worst situation becomes a reality, then I will take my own life."

A horrific silence resounded throughout the quiet of the calm lakebed, and Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore was speechless.

"Agree to my terms, Headmaster Dumbledore, or these men are under orders to stall you as long as possible to allow me time to die."

The ancient wizard had never looked so old to Harry, but he was beyond the point of no return, beyond the time he could have turned his back on these wonderful people and ran, but Harry had never even let that thought enter his mind long enough to fester and become doubt.

"Your _wand, sir!" _He demanded of his elderly enemy, for that is what they had become in a few short hours; Enemies. They were on opposing sides of what could become a war, and Harry would not turn his back on the people he had sworn to help, not for this man, not for his friends, and certainly not for money or possessions. There was nothing that Albus could offer him, and the ancient Headmaster knew it.

Albus Dumbledore gave a bubbling sigh and relinquished his wand to the hold of one of the many mermen surrounding him.

"A wise choice, Dumbledore," Harry nodded, eyes of emerald ice boring into the soft blue eyes of Dumbledore. "Now, we will be moving to a more secure area, as a precaution against some of your more... loyal pets."

Dumbledore, to his credit, did not flinch or look about nervously. He merely nodded his head as if he had expected nothing less than to be captured by a fourteen year old boy and ordered to move to another area for the situation not been so dire, Harry might have asked Dumbledore if he had, in fact, suspected it.

Harry swam well behind the contingent of mermen surrounding the captive Dumbledore, knowing full well that any man, even without a wand, could be dangerous. Harry had no desire to lose this battle before he had even begun his efforts in earnest, let alone before he had had a chance to talk to Dumbledore alone.

When they reached the small, yet still so beautiful temporary encampment set up for this purpose only, Harry hung back and watched as Dumbledore was led into a small stone building, admiring the architecture of the construct more than thinking about the problem he was about to face. He did not need to stress at this junction, he would save the stress for times of danger, and that time had not yet arrived.

He knew, or rather suspected, that Dumbledore knew why they had taken him captive, rather than kidnapping the Minister for Magic, the much more obvious choice. Dumbledore may not have been the Minister, but anyone with half a brain (Which was still an amazingly tiny fraction of the population, it turned out) knew that Dumbledore was the 'Kingmaker' of Great Britain's magical government. Nothing really happened, outside of freak accidents, that happened without his knowledge.

Harry prepared himself, and opened the door to the room housing the most powerful man in the wizarding world.

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><p>Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore had had an incredibly trying year up to that point, but that day had been one of the worst that he had ever had to endure. First, the boy (Harry) hadn't rescued his friend (Ron) as fast as Albus had hoped, and had, in fact, finished in very last place. Second, as soon as the boy (Harry) had returned to shore, he had asked, no, he had <em>demanded<em> that Albus follow him back into the water. And follow he had, albeit grudgingly, and he had definitely taken his time with it. Albus had waited near the shore of the water, wand drawn and waiting for Harry to resurface for nearly ten minutes, until Albus finally gave up, and he 'took the plunge,' as it were.

Once he had entered the water, he immediately saw Harry floating serenely in the frigid waters of the Black Lake, the boy fully transformed by what he assumed to be gillyweed. Harry looked perfectly at home in the murky lake, he thought as he transformed his body into one more suited to life in the sea; Lungs turning to gills, fingers and toes becoming webbed, now-wet robes shifting into body-tight scales. Harry seemed to still possess a grace that he, Albus Dumbledore himself, lacked in some way, though the very thought of this brought a surge of frustration to the fore of his mind, the majority of which he ruthlessly crushed out of existence, his will a gargantuan hammer onto the malleable metal of his emotions.

His facade of calm tranquility didn't falter when the mermen revealed themselves to him, glimmering golden and silver tridents ominously close to his neck, as the old man calmly drew in a deep breath of cold water through his new gills, the water running through the fibrous slits in his neck providing him the oxygen he needed to continue to function.

"I simply want to talk, Headmaster, but I do not trust you." Harry said, "You will surrender your wand, or you will be forced to kill these men, _innocent _men, I remind you, men who are acting on my orders," Harry paused, and Albus took his chance to take control of the conversation, still reeling slightly internally from the fact that Harry had _demanded_ his wand. Such a thing was not done in polite society, no wizard would ever _demand_ another's wand, ever.

"If you wish to talk, then we shall do it on the surface, where-" He had begun, only to be interrupted by his young charge cutting through his words with words of his own.

"No. No negotiations between the wizarding race and the Merpeople will take place above the surface of the water. You may be able to breathe down here, _sir_, but you are nowhere near as agile as I." Albus inhaled sharply at the blow to his pride, though he masked it well, he knew that Harry had seen through his strong facade by the triumphant glint in the young man's eyes. "I will not allow you to take me alive, should you try to remove me from these waters."

The young man who, in another life where Albus had made vastly different choices leading up to this point, may have become his protege, hesitated for a brief second.

"If the worst situation becomes a reality, then I will take my own life." Albus stared, struck speechless by the sheer convictions in the words spoken by the calm young man that floated so gracefully before him, balancing his weight effortlessly upon the gentle buoyancy of the water. Albus could almost feel the weight of Harry's stare upon him, as a phantom 'breeze' ruffled the young man's hair, lifting the mop of black hair up, above his forehead, perfectly framing the angry red lightening bolt scar that had dominated his life for so long. A reminder, a reminder of past mistakes made with another young man from similar circumstances as the man that stood before him now; Two boys, two _men_ who had risen to the challenges that their lives had presented them, two men who had each gone in separate directions down the path of magic. Thomas Marvolo Riddle strode gleefully down the path to the darkness, while Harry James Potter had stayed magnificently pure through all his tribulations.

"Agree to my terms, Headmaster Dumbledore, or these men are under orders to stall you as long as long as possible to allow me time to die." Harry commanded, shaking the aging wizard from his distracted reverie. Albus knew, without a doubt, that Harry had all the conviction of a Priest, unbending in his demands, and unflinching in the face of his enemies.

"Your _wand, sir!" _The young warlord shouted at him, demanding the immediate acquiescence and subservience to his will. Albus knew that he had nothing left to offer the young man, both of them knew that. Albus gave a bubbling sigh, bubbles drifting lazily toward the surface of the lake.

Albus gave his wand, holding the hilt of the magical focus out to the nearest merman, who promptly sped away into the darkest depths of the ancient body of water, disappearing into the darkness like the boy he had mentored so long ago, like Tom Riddle.

He acknowledged the change of venue with a nod of his head, and nothing else. No show of emotion upon his face, as the conflicting thunderstorms of pure _feeling_ inside his chest kept his face blank. His emotions were running wild, trying to reconcile the shy, defenseless eleven year-old with the fierce, uncompromising man he saw before him today. He needed time to think, time to decide what he should be feeling, time to simply try to understand what had led Harry to this point.

He somehow doubted that he would get that time he desperately needed any time soon, as he was ushered into a small, mostly hidden structure in the deepest part of the Black Lake.

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><p><strong>AN: Second chapter of Champion, since the majority of the reviewers requested for it to be made longer than a one-shot!<strong>

**Honestly, I don't really have any ideas of where to go from here. If you've ever written a story, you know that the story writes itself, the author simply holds the pen.**

**Again, please please _please REVIEW!_**

**-Brandon.**


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